


Aikiyc

by Author376



Series: Drashaar [7]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Republic Commando Series - Karen Traviss, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 11:52:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9489893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Author376/pseuds/Author376
Summary: Mandalorian politics, justice, and one of those sad situations where nobody can win.





	

**Author's Note:**

> aikiyc is the Mando'a word for desperate
> 
> *Special thanks to Atin Bralor, without whom I couldn't have gotten this thing written. She let me borrow her delightful characters from Kappa Squad, read over the story and my notes in its stages and kept everyone in character.

**Late 6 ABY**

For the longest time being _Mand’alor_ meant keeping the _Mando’ade_ together and fighting to get the Imps off of _Mando’yaim_ . To keep the culture they loved and valued together. Frankly, it usually meant just fighting to keep life and limb together and remain _atin’la_ about letting a bunch of Sith win through deceit and _corrupt bureaucracy_ . Not that the Jedi and their _fekking_ Republic had been any better; as the saying went, _jetii ra dar’jetii val klesir as_ _[1]_ _._

Either way, Fenn Shysa had spent more time since they’d chased out the last of the Imperials in the Mandalore Sector actually _being_ a leader of his people rather than a war leader only then he had in the two decades that had come before. That included seeing to a lot of issues that had been put aside and left to fester in various people's’ minds. Including, among others, family issues.

The word for “issue” in _mando’a_ was _mirshe’aka_ _[2]_ . It was a combination of the word _mirshe_ for brain, as it was the plural of the word for brain cells, and _aka_ for mission. The implication being that this was a mission for your brain since it irritated the hell out of you and you should be able to think around it. It was directly opposed to almost any other situation, which was viewed as something that could be readily solved with appropriately applied stubbornness and violence, or - not being worth the trouble - was better drowned in a pint of ale and forgotten.

 _Mirshe’aka’e aliit_ _[3]_ were definitely the worst sort of _mirshe’aka’e_ in Shysa’s opinion and he felt backed up by most of his people in agreement with that feeling. Family troubles between the clans could turn into bloody, violent, centuries long feuds if people weren’t careful, but as careful was a byword in Mando life people _did_ try and resolve things privately rather than draw a whole clan into some kind of mess in their personal life like a divorce or custody disputes or something. Nobody wanted a clan war if they could avoid it.

It just so happened that with so much _osik_ having been piled on _Mando’yaim_ _[4]_ and those living on it for twenty years there were plenty of issues that nobody with a memory half as long as your average Mandalorian would have been willing to forget even a quarter of them. That, unfortunately, was where Fenn Shysa found he had no other choice but to step in. It was his _job_ to settle these messes and, thankfully, most of them revolved around just _getting_ family members or different clans to talk to each other and come to an agreement of some kind. A few had turned out messy, sure, and he’d gotten a couple of people mad enough that he’d had to fight off some challenges not just to his title but his right to keep his skin intact, but that was just the way it was some days.

Things like this, however, went far beyond mere _mirshe’aka’e aliit_ , though.

“Tell me exactly what happened.” Behind the visor of his _buy’ce_ _[5]_ _,_ Fenn Shysa’s eyes were as cold and hard as a shallow creek frozen through to the ground and as unforgiving as permafrost on a hard jetpack landing.

Shysa had gotten the call in the wee hours of the morning when he’d been happily collapsed and sleeping away dreamlessly on the heated bench of the Den’s _kar’yai_ _[6]_ . He could have had one of the spare rooms, of course, but he’d spent so many years sleeping wherever there was room that Fenn was just more comfortable out in the main living area of a house. If he’d had two or three of his _Mando Cabure_ passed out around him he’d have been right at home. _Haar’chak_ _[7]_ , there were times he still woke up because the silence where Dala’s snoring had been for so long was just too painfully loud to let him rest.

He’d stopped by on _Slaat’palon_ _[8]_ to introduce a young Mando who’d just started out in freight hauling with her own ship to the planet’s population. She wanted to start out making supply runs from _Slaat’palon_ and back and Shysa had been happy to get the fourteen-year-old settled into a first-run that would both test her skills as a pilot - the mud puddle’s atmosphere wasn’t an experience you lived through if you _weren’t_ a good pilot - and wouldn’t be as dangerous as jumping right out into the galaxy at large and the mess the _aruetiise_ _[9]_ made of galactic politics and everything else.

It was good to start out with jobs fitted to your skills and experience. Shysa knew _he_ hadn’t gotten the luxury. Actually, he knew almost no Mando of his acquaintance who had gotten that luxury. That didn’t mean that he wasn’t happy to personally facilitate the universe being just that much fairer if he could manage it. The _ad’ika_ _[10]_ had fought a few hard fights already and done time in the mines; let her have a year or two of easy runs before she tried her luck with Kessel or Ryloth.

Either way, he’d brought the girl in and introduced her to Wolffe and to Rex. They’d both left her suitably impressed and intimidated as was their want, and then seen her ship loaded up with a good supply of frozen fish, _gihaal_ _[11]_ , and other seafood that would sell well, if relatively cheaply, back on _Mando’yaim_ . Shysa had waved her off and then settled in at the Wolfpack’s table with Maze and the rest of the _aliit_ and proceeded to overeat and count on a night of good sleep in a warm, relatively quiet, home.

It obviously wasn’t meant to be. An emergency message beeping at him from his bucket had him awake before he’d managed to sit up and his _buy’ce_ on his head before he’d even bothered to wipe the sleep from his eyes. The demand for information had followed.

 _“Mand’alor_ _[12]_ , Tor Naysol’s gone _dini’la_ _[13]_ and we’ve got a potential clan war on our hands.” Goran Beviin’s voice was tense, and given both the topic and the fact that he’d felt it necessary to call this in while away from his usual duties on _Slaat’palon_ poultry shopping for Wolffe’s colony on _Mando’yaim_ Shysa wasn’t surprised when his stomach clenched. If Beviin was taking time out from his much-relished agricultural errand then it had to be bad.

 _“Shab_ _[14]_ _!”_ Shysa cursed, standing up and tossing off the fur and the knit blanket draped over his body. He’d been sleeping in his _kute_ _[15]_ , as usual, but as he moved he yanked on his flightsuit and began putting on his plates. “Beviin, tell me _everything_. Did he go after the kids?”

Tor Naysol’s daughter had been one of Shysa’s most dedicated fighters for fifteen years, and she’d met her husband in the resistance against the Empire’s _hut’uune_ _[16]_ on _Mando’yaim_. Naysol himself was a _sleemo_ , in Shysa’s opinion. He didn’t have a problem with the man working out in the galaxy as a mercenary or even taking Imperial jobs instead of joining up; some of the money had always made it to his _ad_ and to Shysa’s people through her. Without the support of Mandos like Tor they wouldn’t have made it anymore than if people hadn’t volunteered like Yssa Naysol.

The problem was that Yssa’s dedication to freeing _Mando’yaim_ had been the only thin thread holding Tor back from going _Kyr’tsad_ _[17]_ from what Shysa had heard of the man. Having met him as well, Fenn wasn’t surprised at Yssa’s frustration with her father’s Survival of the Fittest mentality. He was _ori’copaad_ _[18]_ , obsessed, with the idea that their world had fallen to the Imperials because they’d given up the principles of expansion and of oppression from the bad old days, and that the brief and rather unremarkable period where Satine’s pacifists had hidden out in the desert and, despite having a tiny segment of the population, still pretended to represent the entire Mandalorian people had stained their galactic honor.

It didn’t help that Yssa, his pride and joy and only surviving child, had married a man crippled in service to Shysa. Fenn had known Racin Ordo since he was a lad. He was brave, but the quiet, cautious sort of brave that kept his people alive, and it had been that grinding, _enduring_ bravery that had kept him alive when the Imps had caught him and tortured him for six weeks trying to break him and find out more about Shysa’s then-young Resistence. Yssa had been one of the ones who’d taken care of him, gotten him back to the point he could help serve even if it was from a hover chair and as a gear specialist, and they’d had a good marriage until she’d died a few months before while on a paying job in the Core.

Though Fenn personally found a little of his faith in the galaxy restored by love matches like Racin and Yssa or Fi Skirata and Parja Bralor, he was well aware that his joy wasn’t universal. Tor Naysol considered his new _ad_ weak for having been physically broken by the torture. He’d never reconciled himself to the fact that he’d gain a son, either, rather than the frankly _aruetii_ thought that he was somehow losing his daughter to her marriage. It had made for a tense situation with Yssa alive and, since she’d died, it had become many times worse with Tor pressing to be given his grandchildren to raise himself and Clan Ordo getting more and more riled on behalf of one of its favorite sons.

“Yeah, from what we can tell he took the kids.” Beviin’s voice was all barely leashed anger as he spoke. “ _Mand’alor_ , Racin had invited the _chakaar_ _[19]_ over to his place to see his _bu’ade_ two weeks ago despite the bad blood there. According to Racin’s surviving _vod_ he brought his own two brothers with him, and there was arguing over whether or not Racin could raise the kids properly since he can’t physically train them. This morning Racin’s _buir_ _[20]_ couldn’t get a hold of him for two days in a row and sent his _vod_ to check on him. It looks like Naysol slotted him and the younger sister who moved in with him to help him with the _ade_ . They called me in to _officially_ report the murder and I’m standing in the living room. _Rac’ika_ was shot in the face as he rolled over, they drilled his sister in the back of the head with some kind of dirty, low velocity slug thrower, and the kids are missing.”

Normally Fenn Shysa expressed himself easily, at volume, and whenever he wanted to. He was a talkative fellow, and he wasn’t bothered by that fact. He _liked_ to emote and he’d found it had its uses in distracting a body from the kind of person he could be when the time for talking had _stopped_ and the time for knifework had begun. At that moment, though, he wasn’t Fenn. He was the _Mand’alor_ and he had bigger problems to worry about.

“Get all of the information you can from Clan Ordo and tell them to _hold_ . They’re under orders not to move, _tayli'bac_ _[21]_ ?” Shysa demanded fiercely. “Roundup Naysol’s sister and get her into Keldabe if you can, her place should only be a couple hundred klicks out and she’s solid, if I remember right. I’m going to comm Naysol’s grandfather, if he’s still alive, and make him understand what’s going to happen to his _aliit_ if Clan Ordo decides this isn’t just an individual problem. Tell everyone in Ordo I’m getting them information _now_ and I will _personally_ lead the search for those kids. I’ll pick up some of their clan members when I get there, and I’ll call back shortly.”

“Got it, _Mand’alor_.” Beviin was all professionalism in reply. “Who do I tell them you’re bringing?”

Shysa ran everyone available through is head and then scrapped the usual list as either busy for him, working privately, or not appropriate given the situation. He was on _Slaat’palon_ and _everyone_ answered the _Mand’alor’s_ call. This could blow up into the worst clan war in three centuries if he didn’t show everyone he meant what he said. Ordo was one of the biggest _aliite_ out there and while Naysol _aliite_ was a small one, they were joined to about four others by solid marriages between members of the clan who weren’t _di’kutla_ savages like Tor Naysol. He didn’t just need to bring enough people for the mission; he needed to bring people on the mission who Clan Ordo would interpret as a show that he meant deadly business since they were the ones most likely - and justified - to start something.

“Tell them I’m bringing in _Te Vode_ _[22]_ ,” he said firmly, “and I’ll have the Mystic Mob[23] to search. No stone unturned, Beviin, I want every scrap of information there is waiting for me when I get there.”

“ _Elek, Mand’alor.”_ Beviin cut the comm and Shysa blew out a breath, turning to see that Sha Wolffe was standing at the edge of the fire’s glow in the _kar’yai_.

He nearly jumped, as she made a damned eerie, almost _ghostly_ presence standing there flanked by her _buire_ and with a serious expression on her face. She was, he noted, less formally presented, less put-together than he’d seen her since before her _verd’goten_ _[24]_. Her black hair was caught in the loosest of braids, the heavy wave in it visible for once as the heavy rope of hair cascaded over her left shoulder and down a loose, worn, sleep tunic that fell only to her knees and had no sleeves. Her skin reflected pallidly, bleached in the dim light and her normally blue-green eyes looked colorless in the dark with her bone white horns lowered in that habitual gesture of Canatelli distress as she stared at him.

“What the _shab_ happened, Shysa?” Wolffe, who was wearing a pair of thick sleep pants but no shirt stood with his arms held unconsciously at the ready to grab at weapons he wasn’t holding a beside him Levet mirrored the position. “Sha woke us up saying something’s gone to _haran_ _[25]_.”

Fenn was used to just how sensitive, especially when she was asleep, Sha Wolffe was to what happened around her. He’d known the girl since childhood and watched her struggle with her _jetii_ gifts, and so he knew what he was asking of her. He also knew what he was about to ask of everyone else, and as much as he didn’t like it… that was what the _Mand’alor_ did.

“Sha’s right.” Fenn Shysa stated bluntly. “Tor Naysol just killed Racin Ordo and kidnapped his two grandchildren right out of _Keldabe_ , not two klicks from MandalMotors. I’m going to need your _ad_ for the search, and we’re going straight to Keldabe to head off a clan war before it starts. Sha, kit up for an ugly fight.”

Wolffe’s response was to the point and brutally vulgar while Sha just nodded grimly, turned around, and vanished down the hall at a run.

“I’ll wake the _aliit_ and get some _skraan_ _[26]_ together.” Levet said with efficiency.

“Wolffe, please have the hangar crews start prepping my fighter and Maze’s Lambda.” Shysa went on issuing orders as he lifted his _buy’ce_ back up towards his head. “Send out a general call, put the colony on alert in case there is a clan war. I want you ready because a lot of people view this as a safe place and I don’t want people coming here and looking for a bolt hole only to bring you trouble on their tails. I’ve got more calls to make, and a visit to run, I’ll be back in on hour to collect your _ad_ . I want Uthan woken up and ready to consult as well, _hut’uune_ that he is Naysol’s used bioweapons on his jobs before.”

Cursing, Wolffe nodded and turned to do just that.

“Right,” As he moved off Wolffe barked out his own suggestion over his shoulder. “If that’s the case I’ll route Needles. He can help Dr. Uthan put together the newest innoculations and update your old ones before you lot go out, and handle specialized first aid kits.”

“ _Elek,_ _vor’e_ _[27]_ Commander.” Shysa strode out of the Den, stamping into his boots in the entryway, as he heard more of the Wolfpack piling out into the _kar’yai_ , ready for whatever kind of orders their Commander threw at them.

 

* * *

 

Graves was dozing, not so much asleep as not really awake. Being confined to a bed and on painkillers meant his sleep schedule was shot to _haran_ , anyway, and it wasn’t like there was anything for him to do so he tended to drift off all day and all night in small snatches now. The inability to get a good night’s sleep was just another humiliation on top of an endless seeming list of them since the landslide that had broken his back and left him with severe internal injuries and, if he weren’t holding on for his _cyar’vod_ _[28]_ , some days Graves didn’t think he’d have bothered at all. The only good thing he had at all, right at that moment, was the warm weight of Misfit’s hand pressed against his shoulder.

The weight vanished at the sound of a _beskar_ gauntlet banging loudly against the equally hard and metallic front door of their home in the mountainside. Instinct and years of training had Graves trying to sit up, but all it did was sent a cascade of pain through his core, above the spinal break, as it tugged at the muscles and injured internal organs that were currently slowly healing without bacta. Cursing, he collapsed back against the pillows to pant while Misfit rolled smoothly off the bed, scooped up a weapon, and came to sharp attention before heading cautiously towards the door even as he cursed and rubbed a hand over his face.

There really was no need to worry about and attack because someone banging on their door at night on _Slaat’palon_. Their home for all of these years was a safe place, generally. The risks were of a different sort and, for a moment, Graves forgot the misery of his own situation as he felt a flash of fear for Mire’s eldest son, who lived on Concord Dawn now, and his fellow Alpha ARC, Maze, who was running missions as both an _Ori’ramikad_ _[29]_ and a member of the _Cabure_.

This worry wasn’t mitigated when Misfit stepped back from the entranceway and Graves saw Fenn Shysa coming in. His battered light olive green _beskar’gam_ was still covered in the same scratches and sear marks. At the moment it must have been on an irrigation cycle in the enclosure as well, because water was sluicing off his armor and he was tracking mud into the pristine, clean, floors of their _kar’yai_.

“Suu’ri’s going to murder you if you don’t clean that up, _Mand’alor_.” Graves croaked from his bed, unable to come to attention or even sit up, he could still nod at the mess and glare.

Fenn pulled off his _buy’ce_ and his long face was set in hard lines totally unlike the usual, jovial face their leader wore in someone’s home. It was a familiar expression to Graves, however, who’d spent years on various missions with the _Mand’alor’s_ forces.

“Your _aliit’s ade_ are fine, _Grav’ika_ , but we’ve got a clan war brewing and I need to call up some of _Te Vode_ .” Shysa spoke bluntly and quickly, his voice tightening the muscles in Graves’ back and sending sparks of pain through his gut even as the unsettling _nothing_ he felt elsewhere threw off his perceptions even more. “Misfit, could you?”

“If they aren’t on their way, they’re up now, sir.” Misfit replied and turned and jogged down a side hallway his voice raised high before either gave a thought to the fact that they had a newborn in the house again.

Bess’ quick, loud, and high cry of distressed wakefulness was a good reminder, Graves reflected as he turned - as well as he could - to better look at Shysa that Varik was not going to appreciate it. The taller man came and stood by the bed, putting a hand out and clasping Graves’ wrist with the same respectful strength Shysa always did. For a moment, he felt slightly more like himself.

“Clan war?” Graves had long ago perfected saying the most with the fewest words to save his throat, and Shysa nodded, his expression set as he put his bucket aside on the warming bench.

“It’s bad, Graves, and I only want to explain it once.” Shysa mopped a hand over his face at that, pulling off a wet gauntlet to do it and glaring down at the material abstractly before looking back up with his expression softening. “Heard anything more from _Alor’ad Mesh’la_ _[30]_ on his shopping trip?”

“Tryss has made contact with Antilles and his people.” Graves grunted, feeling ill as he suddenly realized why the leader of his people was probably asking. “If you need him, pull him off getting more bacta. A clan war’s more serious than-.”

“This isn’t a mission I need a brain like your _alor’ad’s_ for, Graves, and it’s too late for diplomacy.” Fenn shook his head grimly. “I need muscle and I need recon skills and small unit tactics.”

Graves’ brain turned that over and for a moment he was tired and in enough pain and on enough in the way of painkillers that he was a little confused over what his leader was asking. Then Shysa’s hand settled on his shoulders in a heavy squeeze as Graves heard everyone in the house beginning to come down the hallways towards the _kar’yai,_ raising a general ruckus as they demanded Misfit tell them what was going on.

“You’d be my first choice, _Grav’ika_ , you and your _riduur_ _[31]_ , but right now the only duty I want you two miscreants on is getting you healthy again.” Shysa’s voice was quiet but firm. “I was hopin’ Tryss would be back so that he could watch his _ade_ , but if he isn’t, that’s what a big _aliit’s_ for, isn’t it now?”

“ _‘Lek…_ ” Graves swallowed roughly, realizing suddenly that if it wasn’t _them_ going out it had to be their _vode_ …

“ _Mand’alor_ , what’s going on?” E’li was the first into the _kar’yai_ and he was fully dressed - wearing no plates but the more snugly fitted trousers and tunic style flightsuit he’d favored since he’d decided to wear _beskar’gam_ with the rest of the family. The Twi’lek ex-jedi was also obviously awake with his eyes clear and focused. Suu’ri was right behind him and she hissed, and Graves didn’t doubt it was at seeing the mud on the normally spotless floors of their home.

“Tor Naysol kidnapped his _bu’ade_ _[32]_ and murdered Racin Ordo and his _vod_ in their beds while a guest at Racin’s place.” Fenn Shysa stated with cold bluntness, though he added more quietly. “Sorry ‘bout the mess, Suu’ri, I’ll bring a side of roba by after I’ve got this settled before we’ve got a big clan war on our hands.”

“That’s fine, _Mand’alor_.” Suu’ri swallowed and shook her head. “Don’t worry about it; it needed mopping anyway.”

Mire was cursing behind them all as Varik stood at stiff attention, but still managed to hold his newborn daughter gently and securely in his arms as he scowled at the entire room with that particular flavor bloodyminded fierceness Graves had only seen in Vau’s RC trainees. He supposed spending all of your time thinking that the closest thing you had to a father was going to kill you for the fun of it and potentially feed you to his pet did odd things to a body. Jango’s tests and his training had actually been harder, Graves had compared the two often enough growing up and seen Jango Fett doing so as well, but he was relieved to say they were also _fairer_ . Jango might have given them tasks that were next to impossible, but he never set them up to fail intentionally to “build character” or any _osik_ like that.

“Right.” Shysa nodded, let out a breath, and then Graves was back fighting with the sudden urge to be doing something, _anything_ of what he’d been created and trained his whole life to do rather than lying broken in bed as his leader went on. “Varik, I didn’t want to have to ask you this with your _riduur_ off but needs must; I want you on this mission. Faro, you don’t usually come, but you’re as much a commando as your _vod_ and I need people who can handle a bunch of old _Kyr’tsad_ wannabes who’re cannoned up and waiting for us. Brude, kit-up _ad’ika_ , and get your father to go over your gear with you because you’re demolitions and we can’t afford any mistakes.”

“Then you’d better hope there are no bridges wherever you’re shipping out to.” Misfit shot in, looking as tense as Graves felt as they both realized that this was the first _important_ mission… they just couldn’t go on.

Feeling vaguely nauseous and an utter failure Graves sagged back against the pillows, looking over at Brude - who he’d raised as much as any of Mire’s _ade_ \- and feeling even worse as he realized that this would be the first mission where _he_ couldn’t watch over him. When _Brude_ had gotten into the _Cabure_ Tryss had agreed to take him with them on their missions to see to his field training themselves. Mire had been so _fekking_ relieved to know he had _vode_ who’d be with his lad…

“E’linvhara,” Fenn Shysa began to speak again, the slightly apologetic tone in his voice snapping Graves’ head up fast enough to make him slightly dizzy. “Sorry, _ner vod_ , I know it’s been a while but I’m calling you up. _Bard’ika’s_ throwing off a bad cold, Venku’s out of the system, and with what’s at risk I need more than Sha for _specialized_ search capabilities this time.”

Graves heard a strangled noise and only realized later that he’d been the one that made it at that point. He just - he couldn’t imagine it. Horror descended on him at the thought of E’li, his brother and his _general_ , going out into the field without him. It had been twenty years since E’li had run any kind of mission; they couldn’t afford to have either Ahsoka or E’li seen off planet, after all, when E’li was one of the Empire’s most wanted men - an unapprehended Jedi - and Vader assumed Ahsoka was hopelessly stranded on an interdicted world. Every time before then Graves had always, _always_ been with E’li to protect him. The idea of him going out without either himself or Misfit was unthinkable.

“I’ll be fine, _ner_ _vode_.” E’li moved over instantly, separating himself from where Shysa had moved to talk to the rest of the _aliit_ , giving specific orders to Faro and Brude quietly as Varik drew little Haar to the side along with Rami, Mica, and Nora as he gently handed Bess over and knelt down by his young son to tell _Haar’ika_ that it would be okay and he was just going away for a while to get some other children who’d gotten in trouble and bring them back to their family.

“E’li,” Misfit shook his head, then swallowed and reached down and wrapped his hand around Graves as a moment of brief, convulsive doubt shook his features before he nodded. “You’ll be fine. _Grav’ika_ , I’m going to drag Varik over here so you can give him a rundown on watching E’li’s back. I’ll have word with the _Mand’alor_ , too.”

“It’s not the same.” Graves swallowed, speaking to quietly to be heard over the cracking of the fire or, in truth, his own slightly labored breathing.

It didn’t matter. Misfit could have read his words even if his lips weren’t moving, and the dark eyes they and every other vod shared spoke of his silent agreement.

 

* * *

 

Maze’s lambda had heavily upgraded weapons, and Sha was more than familiar with them as she’d done a great many of them herself over the years. A great deal of the upgrades had happened as a joint project between herself and one or the other of the more technologically inclined _ba’vodue_ _[33]_. In this case one of them already had a panel off and was running diagnostics in one cramped corner of the cockpit while he frowned at his datapad.

Maze didn’t even look at Faro as he turned his chair around after locking the autopilot in on a course to take them through hyperspace to _Mando’yaim_ . He just stood up, stepped slightly further to the left than normal and took a large step over Faro’s legs as they stretched across the decking. That he reached out and roughly rapped his gauntleted knuckles on Brude’s _buy’ce_ as he passed was more of a reaction.

“Keep an eye on things and tweak our course if you think you can get more speed out of this bucket.” Maze roughly ordered the younger super-commando and looked through the door at where Sha was standing with Kix’s _buy’ce_ overturned in her lap as she had her datapad plugged into it and was making some last minute upgrades to its sensor package.

Sha was rolling out the update to _Slaat’palon’s_ general population in a ten-day, after the latest of the long-haul fishing missions got back. The programming was done, it wasn’t the sort of update that threw anyone off by changing their HUD settings, and so she hadn’t rushed it or had to prepare everyone with information on a significant change in software. All it did was refine the programming on the pre-existing hardware to get some more use out of it.

“You’re next, _ba’vodu_ _[33]_.” Sha told Maze, who nodded back at her with the set, severe, expression he wore when he was working.

She supposed some might have found it weird to have a relative with two such distinct personalities, but Sha didn’t. When Maze was working he was precisely who he’d been trained to be; the best of the best, an Alpha ARC. When he wasn’t, well, he was the same man who’d play games with her as a child and who she knew was beyond overjoyed with the fact that Esme had chosen him as her husband. It was just the way things were, she didn’t know of another way to picture Maze.

“ _Elek, ad’ika.”_ Maze nodded, then paused and looked over at her. “You’re good for this, aren’t you?”

“I’ve pulled uglier missions, Maze.” Sha gave him a small smile and he took her word for it.

Sha breathed out and silently wished her uncle had said that around a different _vod_ than the one whose _buy’ce_ she was currently holding and who was standing across from the crate she was sitting on going through their specialized medpacks for the third time, _just to be sure_ , of the contents. Kix, she felt it should be noted, had a much better bedside manner than her _ba’vodu,_ Needles. He had a natural empathy and a great feel for a patient’s mental and emotional situation as well as their physical condition. If Needles was the undisputed king of surgery, diagnoses, and specialized treatment in the infirmary now that Dr. Mij Gilamar was mostly retired from active duty there then it needed to be acknowledged that Kix was the one actually _running_ the infirmary. He kept track of the patients’ health in _all_ manners, tracked supplies and treatment schedules, and just kept their small infirmary running with an efficiency that would have made most large scale hospitals weep with envy.

Needless to say, Kix did not miss much. So, standing _right there_ , he was hardly going to miss Maze’s comment. Sha watched the Alpha walk further back into his ship towards the ‘fresher and reflected on that having likely been Maze’s intention. Either way there was no escaping Torrent’s medic as he turned to look at her.

“It can’t be easy knowing that we’re looking for two children who have, in the course of a few months, lost both of their parents and a _ba’vodu_ they were close to.” Kix stated in a tone of voice that was bland with just that unsubtle dash of challenge; the tone that meant he was going to help you whether you wanted it or not, and the care overlaid in every word strongly flavored by the stubbornness involved.

“No Mando could possibly find this easy.” Sha replied steadily, not willing to open the conversational door even a crack to her own considerable issues with having been orphaned once in a highly traumatic manner. “Tor Naysol murdered _aliit_ . He’s _dar’manda_ _[34]_ now.”

Kix’s expression turned dark at the mention of the crime that had rousted them all from bed and had them in hyperspace less than three hours later. Unfortunately it didn’t end the speculative glint in his eyes as he looked at her. _Fortunately_ , however, Brude chose that moment to start swearing as the shuttle suddenly dropped out of hyperspace and everything lurched painfully forward before the internal dampeners caught it.

 _“Haar’chak,_ Brude!” Maze’s frustrated bellow from where he’d been pitched into a bulkhead as he exited the refresher - thankfully with everything accomplished therein and nothing dangling as Sha had seen a few times when unexpected drops from hyperspace had pitched people out of the ‘fresher on other missions - and sprinted towards the cockpit.

“I was just resetting the course like you told me to!” Brude defended himself.

“If it dropped us out of hyperspace, _Br’ika_ , then you set it close enough to a gravitational body to shred the hull and the automated safety settings deactivated the hyperdrive.” Faro supplied in what Sha thought of as his “helpful teacher voice” and Maze’s growling could be heard as a bass rumble through the door as it slid shut so Brude’s dressing down could be private.

Sha was smiling to herself and watching Kix fight his own amusement at that infinitesimal bit of professional courtesy directed Brude’s way when Sha’s own _buy’ce_ beeped at her from where it sat by her feet and gave Sha the perfect excuse to hand Kix his bucket and the datapad and put her own helmet on and hide behind it and far away from the “mental wellness” checkup that Kix was obviously intent on giving her. She was surprised to see the Fett clan _aliik_ that she used for her husband’s incoming message or open commline symbol pop up just as she felt the bare awareness of her husband’s general continued existence that composed a closed emotional door between them over the Bond open slightly into a sense of satisfaction not directed at her so much as general that was coming from her husband.

“ _Su cuy’gar, ner riduur.”_ Sha greeted her husband over the line and reached back out for Kix’s bucket and the datapad to finish her work, having already gotten her own _buy’ce_ settled over her head with the faceplate down and clipped in place.

 _“Basic, Sha.”_ Boba Fett grunted at her over the communications line and Sha felt her lips turning up into a smile despite the lingering sense of _bad things_ hovering over the mission that she just didn’t want to acknowledge. You didn’t start a mission by telling everyone you thought you were already too late, and E’li hadn’t said anything…

“Hello, husband.” Sha rephrased. “If you’ve got important information you better exchange it quickly, Boba. We’ve just dropped out of hyperspace and it shouldn’t take more than a minute or two to get the comp back up.”

 _“Why are you in hyperspace?”_ Her husband demanded just as Sha felt the decking plates beneath her feet take on a slightly different pitch in their vibrations.

“Call my _buir_.” Sha instructed her husband just as they once again jumped back into hyperspace and the line went dead.

“Who was that?” Kix asked as he watched her curiously, apparently happy to just wait out her call and in no way planning _not_ to use the hyperspace jump to make sure that she was okay now that he’d gone over the medical supplies the requisite number of times before a mission.

“My husband.” Sha respected her husband’s privacy, but at that moment she’d throw Boba under the repulsor bus if it could discourage Kix from pestering her for a few more minutes. Kix’s _buy’ce_ had almost finished the download and the reboot and once it did that she’d hand it back and go into the cockpit to update Maze’s and hide from Kix in there. “Isn’t it nice that he called?”

Kix, who’d been a favored uncle to five young Canatelli females who’d pursued, caught, and married their chosen bondmates, smiled indulgently at that. Briefly, at least, she’d derailed him from poking at her mental state.

“Someday I want to be a newlywed and get all _perky_ because someone called me for no reason.” Kix teased in response and Sha snorted and narrowed her eyes at the use of the word ‘perky’ in regards to herself.

“Oh, I’m sure Boba had a reason, he just didn’t get a chance to tell me what it was.” Sha paused and felt her lips turning up into a guiltily amused smile. “ _Buir_ and _ner riduur_ are likely in for a mutually frustrating comm call… right about now, actually.”

Sha slipped into the cockpit as Kix laughed at that suggestion. Even Sha had to admit it was a little funny. Commander Wolffe versus Boba Fett was… always something of a battle of wills. It was also fun to _watch_...

 

* * *

 

Varik let out a breath as he replayed the message on his HUD for a third time and then shut it down and blinked up a comline to Faro. He was strapped into a seat in the _Mand’alor’s_ vessel, waiting for Shysa to finish landing the aggressor fighter at the Keldabe spaceport. Seeing the familiar icon for his brother on the screen made Mire’s absence, and Rami’s, and even Haar’s hurt so much he couldn’t sort the anger and the blame out of it all.

It would have been easier if he’d been on the Lambda with Maze. More often than not, when he’d gone out over the years with the Resistance, Varik had worked with Maze. The _Mand’alor_ liked to put younger Mandos with Maze because he’d proven to be both a good trainer and skilled enough to help hone these _ad’ike_ into better fighters _and_ watch their backs and his own at the same time. Varik had found himself slotted into an interesting position as, on those missions he was usually thrown together with Maze on, he ended up being either a solo scout or put in charge of a small group of others as Maze handled something that required a pinpoint strike himself.

The missions he’d gone on had always been different from this, though. As a rule Fenn Shysa never sent any of the clones on a mission that should have ended with survivors on the Imperial side; they couldn’t afford them since nobody was to know that Fenn had clone defectors working with him or just how many even if they did suspect. If _Te Vode_ were involved he used them well, to the best of their abilities, and at the end of the day they’d been created and trained from infancy to be the best soldiers known to man and Shysa needed that professionalism most on those missions he wanted everything involved in it dead, everything cleaned up without a trace, and the whole thing pulled off with mechanical precision.

Varik could do cold, bloodless precision well. At that moment, however, sitting beside where E’li was quietly meditating he didn’t feel up to it. E’li hadn’t meditated since they’d fled during Order 66, and it brought up bad memories of the War from when his General had been struggling particularly badly in the early days. Eventually, in the cave, E’li had admitted that meditation was just so _stressed_ in the Temple that he’d always tried to do it regularly, but that it was also a time when his unlamented late Master had “leaned” on their connection and into his mind most forcefully. Her death and his happy decision to just cast off the trappings of the Jedi had ended his struggles with meditation.

E’li had explained, however, on the trip over how he felt that he wasn’t going to be any use if he didn’t put effort into reconnecting with his Force Training. He was there specifically to help search, as the other trained members of Shysa’s Mystic Mob weren’t available. Sha could do a lot, but - though nobody was saying it - everyone felt that her emotions might run high given the circumstances and might make her abilities to search less steady than someone with actual jedi training.

E’li and Varik had quietly discussed _that_ before they left as well. Varik would rather lick all of the horizontal surfaces in Graves’ and Misfit’s quarters than broach the subject of Sha’s Force Training with either anyone in the Wolfpack or anyone in Torrent. He knew that it didn’t matter which one you spoke to about it, either, because any suggestion that there’d been more than the _bare minimum_ of training going on between Ahsoka and Commander Wolffe’s daughter was going to result in an ugly fight.

Back in the days not long after Kappa had arrived everyone in the Colony had agreed that Sha needed _some_ training, but it was a hot button subject. Sha herself was extremely traumatized and Wolffe’s main focus as a _buir_ was just getting his daughter happy and stable and comfortable in her own skin. He wanted her able to deal with her memories of being joined to her mother through a force bond while her biological parent died, if not suppressed, then somehow made easier on the poor _ad’ika_. Meanwhile the rest of the colony not only didn’t want to see the little girl suffer; they were also afraid that Sha’s occasional outbursts of wild Force use would get them all discovered and killed.

So it had been agreed that Ahsoka, who was not yet balanced with her past and the Jedi Order’s betrayal of her, would give Sha _just enough_ training to control herself and be comfortable with her perceptions and natural talent. Likewise E’li had begun training his son how to shield himself, but not really anything more. The rest of the Canatelli girls already really had all of the “training” they needed, as the tiny bit of Force Sensitivity they possessed was operating on more of an instinctual level. They were all “normal” Canatelli and hadn’t had a Force Sensitive father like Sha had to bump her talent up to Jedi levels.

E’li was likely the only person in the colony other than Rex, if even the Captain knew, who could perceive just how _much_ training it had taken to level Sha out as a toddler, or how she’d soaked it up. For the rest of them, well, it wasn’t as if the GAR wasn’t familiar enough with Jedi ways and unfamiliar enough with normal Mongrels to just dismiss a lot of Sha’s abilities and gifts as “normal”. Thought wasn’t put into it and nobody talked about it, not the least because two of the most protective _aliite_ around were both hovering over Ahsoka and Sha and were ready to take _drastic offense_ to any suggestion that either Ahsoka had improperly taught Sha more than was needed or that Sha was somehow doing something _wrong_ by picking up those lessons.

To E’li, and, frankly, to Varik it didn’t seem worth the argument. Sha _wasn’t_ a Jedi, she just was a fairly strong talent with useful training. So was Ahsoka and so was Bardan and so was E’li and so was _Kad’ika_ . That’s what the Mystic Mob was and if E’li didn’t participate, well, neither did Ahsoka; it was too dangerous. To Varik’s way of thinking it didn’t do any _harm_ for Sha to go on thinking of herself as just having enough training to handle her emotions and dismissing her ability to augment her fighting or use telekinesis as something “any” force talent could do with concentration. Likewise, Varik also felt that it didn’t hurt for Fenn Shysa not to rely on Sha the way he sometimes did on Bardan or Darman Skirata’s son. Everyone knew about Sha’s early issues and they didn’t want to see those dug back up.

Watching E’li struggle not to dig up his own painful past as he worked to refamiliarize himself with unhappy old training made Varik wish he’d just spoken up, though. He didn’t really feel like E’li’s presence was _necessary_ , and it made Varik damned _nervous_ . At least during the war ninety-percent of the time if E’li was somewhere he could rest assured that Graves was with him. That freed up his mind to worry about the mission instead as Kappa Squad’s sergeant. Now, Varik found himself worrying more for E’li - who hadn’t been in the field for two decades - than he was about his _job_ and every ounce of training he’d ever had was hissing at him in Sergeant Vau’s hated aristocratic drawl that this was a good way to get them _both_ dead.

 _“Varik?”_ Faro’s voice, calm and calling him by his _name_ rathern than his number or a rank he’d left behind like an albatross around his neck so long ago, brought him back a little from the rising tension inside him.

“Tryss left a message for me that I picked up when we reverted to real space.” Varik breathed out, passing along both intel and family news in the same, familiar, breath. “He’s back from Thyferran space and he’s got bacta _and_ a Rebel expert on clone health and treatment who’s quitting the Alliance to come work for us.”

“ _Kandosii!”_ Faro replied, his calm tone lifting up for a minute. _“Really? A clone health expert. What’s the Alliance doing with one of those?”_

“Some of our _vode_ went to the Alliance, Varja’s talked about it before.” Varik pointed out. “Everyone knows about Bacara.”

“ _True.”_ Faro agreed, his tone pleased. _“Seeing a brother had built the New Republic’s Marines from the ground up and was in charge of their special forces training showed that the aruetiise weren’t total idiots. Besides,_ General _Bacara has a nice ring to it.”_

Varik grunted in agreement because it had, frankly, been pretty damned nice to hear one of their own was a general. Not a _Clone Commander_ , not shuffled off for some mongrel admiral or some other rank. Bacara had the rank of General in the New Republic armed force and from what anyone could tell he’d been pretty involved with the high ups for years by this point, though Varik had asked around and nobody was sure if he’d gotten the Cure or how, though from the few images they’d gleaned of him it appeared he had to have given that he only looked to be in his early forties physically. In fact, Varik figured that he had to be one of the lucky ones for whom the Cure actually slowed their aging down more than normal, given the shape the Marine officer was in.

 _“It would mean more if they’d get off their shebs and pass the Clone Rights Act.”_ Varik felt the sharp cynicism settling back onto him, like he’d put it on with his _beskar’gam_ and his heavier weaponry for the mission.

Before Faro could respond the _Mand’alor’s_ icon popped up broadcasting on the group channel chosen for the mission.

_“Alright, ner vode, Sha, Domino, I want you flanking me on my right and Rex and Ahsoka on my left. E’li, watch how I handle this and don’t hesitate to let me know if you’re pickin’ anything up my sad little self is missing. Same for you, Sha. Ahsoka, I don’t have to say anything to as we all know you’ll kick my shebs if you feel like it anyway. Everyone else, look lively because we might be heading to a cantina but it won’t be for a quiet pint by the fire.”_

Letting out a breath Varik nodded once, sharply, and released his safety harness and rose from his seat beside Domino. On Varik’s other side E’li let out a deep breath and did the same as across from all of the Rex and Ahsoka stood.

 

* * *

 

Domino didn’t like being away from _Slaat’palon_ . His _vod’ika’s_ health had been better since he’d been Bound to Maleena, but he still had the occasional off-day and Domino wasn’t about to stop watching just because things had gotten slightly better. Complacency got people killed.

Then there were the girls. Domino had two nieces to look out for now, even if Nari was nearly a woman grown and would have her _verd’goten_ soon. She’d always be the little one he’d helped cuddle and cosset through colic and stayed up with many a night so that Maleena and Chance, who’d been forced into a relationship too soon by Maleena’s hormones demanding an early Bond and then an unprecedented early pregnancy, sort out their relationship and find their way towards loving each other the way they deserved.

Then there was Kari. His and Sumiko’s oldest daughter wasn’t quite five yet and he _worried_ about things when he wasn’t there. She shouldn’t have to worry about where her _buir_ was, or that she wasn’t getting her bedtime story or that dinner wasn’t quite on time because her _ba’vodu_ was cooking and Chance wasn’t great at timing meals. Plus _Ch’ika_ would give all of the girls more sweets than was necessary without him there to watch, and Maleena and Sumiko were _both_ pregnant now, each within sixty days of delivering since their cycles had long synced up. With their wives tired and his _vod’ika_ doing most of the work around their place Domino wasn’t just worried about Chance pushing himself too far; he was also worried about their wives not being watched closely enough and doing too much!

Domino was more than a soldier, though, he was a _Marine_ and the _Mand’alor_ had called. He wasn’t unfamiliar with running missions with Shysa’s people, though he wasn’t an outright member of the _ori’ramikad_ and he hadn’t joined the _Cabure_ . Doing either would take him away from his home too often and his _aliit_ , but a mission now and then when Shysa _needed_ his experience was a different matter. The fact that it was a pair of children taken away, their parents murdered by _aliit_ … Domino hadn’t thought twice about answering Fenn Shysa’s call.

He just was absolutely determined not to take an ounce of _osik_ from anyone involved and get this settled and those _ade_ back home as soon as possible. Anything that got in the way of that was as good as _bait_ as far as he was concerned. If years of fishing had taught him nothing else, it had shown him how to recycle.

 

* * *

 

“Tor would never hav-!”

“- _e’johaa!”_

“-rdered in their _sleep_ ! The _hut’uune_ couldn’t-.”

“One more word and I’ll slit you-.”

“ _CUYIR SHEV’LA_ _[35]_ _!”_

The bellow filled the room, projecting more due to the talents of the man issuing the furious, inherently _dangerous_ sounding shout than the lesser assistance given by the amplification equipment in his _buy’ce_ . Several of the people who’d been closest to fighting, jumpiest, or just too caught up in their own building rage and grief amidst the crowd packed in the _Oyu’baat_ turned to face the door in shock despite most of them having their _buy’cese_ on and having three-hundred-sixty-degree vision thanks to that anyway.

Two of them raised weapons, and Goran had a split second to put his hand on his own _beskad_ , knowing that any close-in fighting would be better done with a melee weapon than a blaster, when he realized the problem was already taken care of. Then again, both the people working on it had a better “threat detection system” than he did, didn’t they?

Goran Beviin had only been happier to see his _Mand’alor_ once in his life and that had been when he was barely an adult, more than half-starved, slowly seeping blood from half a dozen infected wounds, and lying in a snowdrift caught in about half a hallucination after he’d escaped the Imps’ slave mines. As it was, watching Sha Wolffe’s own _beskad_ hit the air, turning end over end, before pinning Bev Ordo’s blaster back onto the table, shearing the barrel clean off of the thing was a beautiful sight after listening to the furious woman’s efforts to start the blood feud _right there_ for the last hour.

It was almost as pretty as watching one of Ahsoka Tano’s long, slender, orange hands just seem to _appear_ in front of Fenn Shysa’s chest. The tall, slender, Togruta female was a gorgeous being. Even given his lack of preference for females and the fact that she was quite a bit older than he was, Goran could see that her long lekku, crown-like montrals, and the sleek, predatory way she moved made Captain Rex a lucky barve. Beviin had even gotten the rare privilege of seeing her fight on a couple of missions after Endor changed everything as far as secrecy went.

It was winter in Keldabe, and outside the open door of the most ancient and famous bar in the city snow swirled thickly in the night air. With cold wind blowing past the _Mand’alor’s_ people as they walked in and contrasting the oppressive heat generated by the big fireplace and the packed crowd of angry Mandos inside the place, the wind pushing past them was almost as much of a jolt as the command to be silent and the sudden introduction of blaster to _beskad_ to table had been.

None of it was as shocking as watching Fenn Shysa casually reach up and, in the quiet that had now descended, pluck the ugly throwing knife out of the delicate orange fingers that offered it to him.

“Why thank you, Ahsoka, I’ve always wanted one of these fancy Corellian weighted deals.” The _Mand’alor’s_ voice was processed underneath his bucket, and the cheer was coated with sharp edges and frosted teeth as he spoke, tucking the knife into his belt. “And _vor’e_ to you, too, Garadib, for _suggesting_ it.”

Web Garadib, who was married to Racin Ordo’s older brother, nodded once and stepped back. The man had a hair trigger temper and was _haran_ in a knife fight. Beviin swallowed his own temper at the man tossing the thing at Shysa, knowing that he’d thrown first and _looked_ later, but promised himself a chance in the future to give the _chakaar_ a broken nose for it at the first opportunity. You know, one that _wouldn’t_ blow up into a clan war that could shake every bit of progress they’d made back to its foundations.

“Don’t mention it, _Mand’alor_ .” Garadib managed as he stepped back beside his husband, whose face was twisted with more grief than anger, one of his arms groping to settle around his _riduur’s_ shoulders.

As the rest of Fenn’s party moved into the room Beviin breathed out in both relief and a little bit of comforted awe. Their _Mand’alor_ had said he was bringing in the big guns, and he hadn’t lied. Given the piss poor job Beviin felt he’d been doing of maintaining the peace, or at least the ceasefire, he couldn’t have been more grateful.

Fenn Shysa was flanked on either side by Captain Rex and Varik of Kappa _aliit_ . Captain Rex’s reputation from the Clone Wars itself was legendary - there were still _action figures_ of the man being made in some places in the galaxy. The fact that he’d been right there with Commander Wolffe as the reason why so many of them trapped on _Mando’yaim_ didn’t starve only added to his clout on _Mando’yaim_.

In fact it probably augmented it more than anyone who hadn’t spent time hungry and weak and frightened as a child could say, because to be _that hungry_ and then have Fenn Shysa show up in the middle of the night with weapons and sacks full of _gihaal_ and flour, and canned vegetables and sometimes even sweets… It had been like every _aruetii_ holiday ever combined for some families and the _Mand’alor_ never failed to wink and tell them their full bellies were _“courtesy of Te Vode.”_ They’d only found out later just which brothers to thank and it had somehow made it all more _legendary_ somehow to know that the people who’d helped save them had been just as oppressed once, and even more forgotten.

Ahsoka Tano stood slightly behind her husband, where the two larger men sliding through the door and forced her to take a step back, but she’d reached nimbly _between_ them to catch that blade, and that only made it more impressive. The effortless way Rex stepped aside so she could step forward as they moved inside added to it. Because while Ahsoka Tano didn’t look totally _Mando_ , she definitely looked like the huntress she was.

It was winter and she wore a long fur-lined winter cloak of rich blue-gray fur covered in dense silver-gray material. Underneath she wore snug leather trousers and heavy, fur-topped boots. Her coat was cut close to her body, made of a much paler gray than the cloak or the charcoal colored leggings, and trimmed here and there with fur and a pattern in ivory beadwork that resembled the marks on her face and the blue and white stripes of her lekku. Around her waist was a belt made of strips of braided brown leather interspersed with some predator’s sharp, curved teeth. A carved ivory knife handle curled up from one boot top and the unmistakable hilts two _jetii’kade_ _[36]_ hung at her hips.

No-one thought of Ahsoka Tano as a Jedi any longer, though, Beviin reflected. A few faces turned towards hers with caution in their eyes, but most looked at the _Mand’alor_ with respect. Almost the only time you ever saw a member of the Mystic Mob out was if there was either an incredibly large threat, or the suspicion of one of Palpatine’s force trained minions running about, and even then almost nobody _saw_ them. To have it all out in the open, right here in the _Oyu’baat_ … there was no statement stronger that Fenn Shysa was taking this seriously.

The rest of those coming in did nothing to shake that. It had been Varik of Kappa who’d bellowed at everyone and as he stepped forward and gave everyone a good look at his armor Beviin felt his lips turn up just slightly. The Kappa _aliik_ , the in-house fuss about the design of which Beviin had heard stories about from Wolffe, stood proudly painted on his right top chestplate. The man wore a black flightsuit with a commando’s love of pockets and a heavy double gun belt featuring two large rotary blasters and at least two visible knives.

Varik’s plates were a dark gray, heavily marked and scored by the fact that, along with Misfit and Graves and a few others, he’d been one of the _vode_ on _Slaat’palon_ who’d come out on the most missions over the years. The chest plate that the Kappa _aliik_ _[37]_ rested on was entirely dark blue, more accents of the same color trimmed other plates and completely colored his gauntlets and the grieves fitted over his boots. He didn’t carry trophies but at his belt hung a thin, _beskar_ chain with sharpened links  and a wooden handle on either end; during missions where silence was paramount Beviin had seen the Republic Commando silently and efficiently take a stormtrooper’s _head_ off with the thing.

An equally large man in a lighter shade of gray plates with green trim and the same clan symbol had to be one of Varik’s brothers. Beviin knew that Mire had too many vision problems to be out in the field and that the other Kappa _vode_ had different armor so he guessed it had to be Faro. He’d never seen the quieter clone out in the field and took it as another sign of how serious they were taking things, at least until everyone in the group got inside and he could see who _else_ had come from Kappa _aliit_.

Because as they spread out Varik not only flanked the _Mand’alor_ , but Faro stepped aside to flank another figure who stepped forward. Pushing back his own fur-lined cloak the figure that stepped forward was slightly taller than the clones and much the same height as Fenn Shysa, but _not_ human. Instead it was a tall, lean, Twi’lek male of middle years with lavender skin accented by the heavy tattoos and scarring on his face and lekku of one of Ryloth’s various warrior clans or cultures. Slung across his back was a heavy duty blaster rifle and he wore several visible knives, but what really pinned down E’linvhara Kappa’s identity was the lightsaber hilt hanging at his waist.

Sha stepped forward at that point, silently pushing past everyone and retrieving her _beskad_ and sliding it back into its sheath at her belt. Bev stood up to glare, briefly, at the shorter Canatelli woman over the wrecked blaster half-imbedded in the table but after the briefest second of watching the red coloring now highlighting the intricate ridges of Sha’s horns the younger woman backed down. Beviin felt his lips turn up slightly as he took in Sha’s appearance.

She wore her damascene _beskar_ plates, as always, but she was wearing the home-grown and developed DC-30 blaster rifle slung across her back overtop of the _pel’genet_ fur-lined cloak hanging down her back. At her belt was a heavy blaster, but the orange nacre of a small pearl-handled holdout blaster tuck out of one boot along with the glittering hilt of the fancy knife Fenn had given her as a young warrior. Other weapons were visible here and there and Beviin looked at her own predator-tooth belt as it clung to her hips and the little red silk cords holding the teeth of her enemies in ropes at her shoulder plate and smiled tightly.

Sha might have been part of the Mystic Mob, sure, but _she_ wasn’t just on their side. Commander Wolffe’s daughter was _Mando_ to the bone. While he trusted both E’linvhara and Ahsoka for having more than proven themselves Beviin knew enough about politics to know that Sha Wolffe’s presence would shut up the few tongues that wanted to wag about the two who’d been Temple-raised. That is, _if_ , Rex or Kappa Squad’s two present members gave her the time; more likely than not, they wouldn’t.

Domino was with them, Beviin finished his mental tally. The Galactic Marine was a tank in his sand gold armor, bristling with weaponry, and from his shoulder plate to his chest plate, down over his belly, thigh, and the _beskar_ protecting his knee and shin on his left side was a long line of symbols. Each was a campaign or battle tag or citation of merit from the GAR for his service in the Clone Wars. Added to that, over the years, on his plates over his arm on that side, were also the names and dates of all of the battles he’d participated in with Shysa’s people. The sheer _survival_ it attested to brought instant respect from any Mando with the brains to realize what it all meant.

Moving to stand near Rex was another _vod._ He had the Torrent _aliik_ on his _beskar’gam_ as well, which was a very medical shade of blue green highlighted with portions of it in Torrent Blue that matched the familiar white armor with its _jaig_ eyes and other trim in blue that Rex wore. This brother, however, had to be either Coric or Kix because of the medic’s symbol painted onto one shoulder plate. On Rex’s armor someone had seen fit to add six small blue child-sized handprints to the thighs plates, all of which were getting rather scratched and dinged with time. Beviin hurt for Rex to realize that one of those handprints belonged to Jantine, who’d died when Paros’ people had attacked the clan gathering. Now that he saw it, there were a couple of slightly larger handprints on Kix’s as well. Undoubtedly a favorite niece’s mark on her _ba’vodu_.

Maze’s red _beskar’gam_ gleamed like blood and Rex noticed he was wearing a jetpack, which he didn’t often do unless he anticipated a rough mission. Moreover, though Goran was a few years older than Brude Kappa, he knew Mire’s son well and recognized the young _Mando Cabure_ who’d recently been accepted into the _Ori’ramikad_ . His _beskar’gam_ featured the dark gray plates and pale lavender details on his forearms and gauntlets he was become so well-known for. He was also wearing a jetpack and his looked like it had just been freshly painted to match his gear, but the concussion rifle he was carrying was old, worn, and had kill hash marks worked onto it in places to tell him it was likely a well-loved family weapon.

Looking around at the packed crowd Beviin relaxed further as he saw everyone else take in what he was seeing and what it meant. Mostly because, at least now, _he_ wasn’t the one in charge of the circus. All that was left was seeing how the _Mand’alor_ was going to handle it.

 

* * *

 

Handling the situation was going to gut him, Fenn already knew that. There was no way he could make his people happy with this one; a family was already destroyed and in order to get those kids back he’d be destroying it further. This was triage.

Between handling the situation, however, and handling the _people_ , it was the first that was easier and obvious. Beviin and both families - Naysol only had four relatives left by a fairly sprawling network of kin-by-marriage, but Clan Ordo was _huge_ and _everywhere_ \- had already thrown everything they had into gathering information and gathering evidence. Thankfully Beviin had gotten there in time to also gather _physical_ evidence and get it to some of the many people in Keldabe who were good at forensics; it meant Clan Ordo’s information had corroboration.

Likewise Tor Naysol’s grandfather was at least keeping something of a leash on his side of things, though he was unfortunately unwilling to believe that his nephew was capable of killing Racin.

“He was his _ad_ , _Fen’ika_ ,” The old man was rail thin and worn down by years of hard fighting and burying three _riduur’e_ . “My _vod’s_ lad wouldn’t do it. We’re not _aruetiise_ to put blood before _aliit_! Racin was as much his as Yssa.”

“If that was the case why are my _vode_ dead?” Tsik Ordo demanded roughly. “ _Ch’ika_ was _fourteen_ , Shysa, she put off her _verd’goten_ to help our brother look after those kids, and that _hut’uun_ shot her in the back while she slept!”

Tsik Ordo was the oldest of three siblings and the grandson of Ordo _aliit’s_ current matriarch. He’d been adopted on some forgotten Corellian Outlier; the lost and forgotten, likely unwanted, child of a mixed species relationship. While otherwise mostly human-looking his skin was a true black rather than the shades of brown usually seen on human beings, and the sclera of his eyes was a bright yellow around otherwise human brown irises. His ears were slightly pointed, though one had been split long ago in a fight, and he had big, blunt, four-fingered hands.

Tsik was a big man, tall and very leanly muscled and beside him Web Garadib was shorter and stockier with pockmarked fair skin, a tendency to go red in the face when he was angry, and a shaved head covered in a rather terrifying tattoo of a Coruscanti Hawkbat. Web was a hothead, a rabble rouser, and at that moment his expression was nothing but concern for the man he’d married as he stood with an arm around Tsik’s shoulder.

Old Man Naysol got a hand on the back of Baltan Carid’s neck as the younger man rose to his feet, his mouth open to snarl something back at the grieving brother and uncle. Nobody knew what the Old Man’s name originally was in _Shyriiwook._ It wasn’t often that a Wookiee joined the _Mando’ade_ , after all, they had their own culture and their own clans and stuck close to it.

Naysol had been adopted more than three centuries before, the exact manner and story behind it long forgotten, and he’d been grown at the time. Now his age and his original name were lost, forgotten, and unheeded by the culture he’d become part of. None of them cared who his father had been, after all, only the father he’d become.

Despite being bent with age Old Man Naysol was still just over two meters tall. In his youth he’d been a warrior of great renown and terrible in his fury. Now no-one else in the room could remember a time when his coat was anything but gray with long lines of white in it, and the skin around his eyes and nose was leathery and deeply creased. He was missing the two smallest fingers on his right hand and all of his joints were twisted with arthritis. The only remnant of who he might have been before crossing the white field was his native tongue, which he spoke out of practicality given the structure of his vocal chords.

Baltan Carid was married to one of the many orphans that the Old Man had taken in and raised in his long life, and he was _loyal_ . The vibrant blue of the vine just visible curling up out of the collar of the flightsuit underneath his purple _beskar’gam_ stood for consistency and worked into it where you couldn’t see were the names of those he’d loved and lost in his life. Under normal conditions he was a laughing ball of energy in the prime of his life, but at the moment he was a primed ball of anger defending his _riduur’s_ clan while she was absent on a job and unable to do the same.

[Tor is my grandson.] Naysol began to growl out, low and steady as his rheumy blue eyes took in the room in the fire’s glow. [I love him, as I loved his father. I raised his father with honor, integrity, and a warrior’s spirit. He raised Yssa the same way. His objections to Racin Ordo were only in fear that his own grandchildren would not learn the lessons they needed to be Mandalorian. What you are suggesting he did is the honorless crime of a coward, and if he _was_ guilty than he is no kin or clan of mine.]

[We are Mando.] The old wookiee went on. [We want justice, revenge, and a reckoning for the pain caused us, but before those things that happen the children must be brought back safely. My grandson has three boltholes I know of and I will give you what I know of the locations for each and communications codes to try and reach Tor and his brothers as I have tried and failed to do. I only ask that we understand what has happened. We have been deceived before by those seeking to divide us. Captain Rex can attest to these plots, as he buried his own daughter in the last of them not a year ago.]

“And that’s why he’ll be staying here with his _riduur_ as _my_ agents in this matter. If there’s any _hint_ of one of Palpatine’s leftovers lurking about, or some other _aruetii_ angle here in Keldabe, Captain Rex will find it.” Fenn Shysa filled in firmly, though he had little hope of that. The case was fairly open and shut; only devotion could close someone’s eyes to it. He was grateful for the Old Man’s calm head, though. “Then I want everyone here to kill it deader than Jabba, but _not_ without direct word from my Rex, Tano, or my own beautiful self. _Tayli’bac?_ ”

A murmur of sharp agreement passed through the crowd and the general air of barely leashed didn’t so much dissipate - nor would have Shysa wanted to, as it made it feel nice and homely, really - as gain focus. There were a few more outbursts as the evidence was laid out and Old Man Neysol laid out what he knew of where his grandson might go if he was looking to lay low for a while, but overall Fenn Shysa got the explosion contained and managed to direct it properly. That was all a leader could really ask for on a day like that.

 

* * *

 

Boba Fett wasn’t grinding his teeth in frustration, but he also wasn’t happy when his wife called him back. He’d contacted Wolffe, but his wife’s father had been particularly unhelpful. The other clone had told him that there had been a conflict between two Mando clans and Sha had left with Fenn Shysa, Maze, and others for Mandalore to sort out the issue before it could explode. He’d refused to give Fett any other details and the call had cut out without any valuable intelligence being passed along.

 _“Boba?”_ He blinked Sha’s icon up as soon as it appeared on the screen and her voice came across to him, sounding tired and tense. _“_ Buir _was less than helpful, wasn’t he?”_

“Tell me _exactly_ what’s going on.” Boba demanded by way of a response, irritated more than anything but the lack of _knowledge_ . As for Wolffe’s attitude, there was no point in even mentioning _that_.

Fett was adapting to being married again, with the added complication of benefit of the Bond with his wife involved as well. He liked that, even with the Bond closed, he had the most basic sense of her safety. He could tell she was alive even with any sort of transmission between them cut off. He was also fairly confident in _how_ to handle the Bond. Thinking of it as another form of communication, or another sensor on his heads up display or ship’s systems made it fairly manageable even if he’d struggled at first. As Sha had said, that’s what the period of time spent together, _alone_ post-Bond was for; to learn each other and how to handle the changes Bonding forced into the lives of the Canatelli and whoever married them.

He liked that he had control over the Bond. That he could close it down to that basic sense of continued life while he worked so that it didn’t distract him, but open it so that he could really get a glimpse of Sha’s true condition whenever he had the time. He need never fully _trust_ again, not like he had with Sintas only for betrayal and the destruction of everything that followed. Instead he could just _know_ and that ability had been one of the reasons why he felt the intrusion of the Bond was more than worth it.

Sha had responded to the recorded message he’d left her, demanding she tell him what the _fek_ was going on, with a brief reply that she was investigating a kidnapping and murder in Keldabe and would get back to him soon with more information. Given the loose definition of murder that Mandos usually worked inside and the mention of a clan war he knew that whatever it was it was bad. Given his paranoia where any chance of happiness was concerned, Fett might have refused to sit around and brood, but there was a strong chance that as he methodically cleaned several weapons systems out there was a fair amount of stewing going in in its place.

 _“Racin Ordo and his fourteen-year-old sister were murdered in their beds a couple of nights ago and both his young children were kidnapped.”_ Sha explained without preamble. _“All evidence points to his wife’s father, who was staying with the family as a guest along with his two brothers.”_

Fett ran what he knew of Mando clan structure and habits through his head and found frustratingly little information available.

“Clan Ordo’s large?” It came out as a rough question and he heard Sha sigh and felt a hint of real exhaustion and frustration come through.

 _“Ordo aliit is second or third in terms of clan size, but it’s also one of the most cohesive clans. They had a lot of loss but also adopted a lot during the occupation, and while that cut their wealth down they’re still one of the largest and most powerful clans there is.”_ Sha explained. _“Racin’s one of their best loved members. He fought like haran for Shysa during the occupation years, was crippled, and has worked as a project manager and engineer at Mandal Motors since.”_ Sha explained, and went on without further prompting. _“He married Yssa Naysol, who died not quite a year ago out on a job. Her father is one of the Imperialist, Bad Old Days guys who only refused to join Death Watch over the years first because his grandfather disapproved, then because he thought them letting Maul take over for even a few years was a disgrace. He thought that Racin wasn’t good enough to raise his own kids because he was stuck in a repulsor chair.”_

Boba scowled deeply and felt Sha respond to it across the mostly open connection between them. Irritation mixed with her exhaustion and tinged everything with hopeless disgust and anger. For a moment he had a tough time dealing with the _emotionality_ of actually feeling what she did, then he felt that reflected and after a minute’s mental struggle over it, narrowed the bond. He was still working out the best way to feel and then visualize some of the sensations he got for maximum control. Sha did it with colors, perceiving feelings as hues, but that wasn’t working for Fett. _Sensor_ _data_ , he decided, because he could funnel the sense of color that bled from his wife now and then into the visualization of a head’s up display… but he’d worry about the specifics of that later.

The relief, rather than anger or hurt, that came from his wife’s distant presence in the back of his mind at his narrowing of the bond relaxed the extra tension in his spine slightly. That was part of the balance he was finding with Sha and the Bond. Boba had been relieved to find that Sha might want the Bond open entirely if they were alone, being intimate, or near each other, but that she didn’t like to be either pushed or overwhelmed by it at other times. Feeling a little more in control as she took no insult from his movement to gain distance, Fett ran those names over in his head.

He’d had a few Death Watch run ins over the years. They’d always ended the same way; dead _Kyr’tsad_ . He had his father’s legacy and reputation to uphold in the matter and he took it seriously. He also had no respect for the fact that the criminals in Death Watch had no sense of honor or any code to live by. Practicality was one thing, and he approved of it, but Fett had no respect for someone who used savageness for _entertainment_.

“Shysa’s averted a clan war.” Fett knew he wouldn’t have been sensing anything half as _calm_ as his wife’s unhappy tension if that had been the case.

 _“He’s trying to. So far the Mand’alor has assembled several parties involving the two clans, ori’ramikade, and volunteers to go investigate the three bolt holes Racin’s known to keep.”_ Sha replied. _“My_ bavodu’e, _Rex and ‘Soka, are staying here to continue the investigation, but really they’re to keep the peace. Naysol aliit isn’t big, but they’ve got a lot of connections through marriage and history. The Old Man of the clan is a Wookiee who’s been around forever, and he’s well respected, so tensions are high everywhere and people are picking sides. The Mand’alor is using the investigation to keep everyone calm with the suggestion that it might be an_ aruetii _plot of something and he’s looking into all possibilities as we hunt for the kids.”_

Thinking it through Boba silently agreed with Shysa’s choice, and felt Sha perceive it. Another benefit of the Bond was that he didn’t have to attempt to _talk_ quite so much if he didn’t feel like it, and he rarely did. Either way, his respect for the _Mand’alor_ went up a notch; the man was a good leader.

 _“Right now Maze is grabbing some extra kit for the trip and we’re fueling up his Lambda.”_ Sha went on. _“But we’ll be back in hyperspace in under an hour. I - wait, the Manda’lor’s pinging me.”_

Boba Fett let out a breath, but waited. He _liked_ his wife’s skills in a fight. He enjoyed watching it, to be honest, whether it was sparring with her, watching her spar, or the times he’d seen her in combat. As far as he was concerned there was _nothing_ like seeing a woman’s competence to make them attractive. He also respected her loyalty and her point-blank assertion that she _would_ serve her leader if he called her up. What her husband wanted was Sha to _call him_ when that _kriffing happened_ and he was intent on passing that information along before this call terminated.

 _“Boba,”_ Sha’s voice came back over the line less than two minutes later, _“I’ll be going with Shysa’s group to Tatooine. He wants to know if you’ve got any contacts there who could help us dig up Racin’s location on planet. Work’s dried up there since the Alderaanian Princess strangled the Bloated One, and we don’t have that much fresh information between us.”_

Boba Fett was sitting on an asteroid in the outer field of Rodia’s solar system, going over investments, and checking for any jobs he wanted. There were a few, as usual, always open in his range but Sha was actually offering him precisely what he wanted. He debated for three seconds over whether he should go back to business or step in, but it wasn’t much of a question. He’d admitted to himself Sha mattered, he’d _married_ her, and he wasn’t _fekking_ this marriage up like the last one; his wife was free to fight her own battles, but if she was inviting him?

“I’ll meet you there.” Boba replied flatly. “Send me me your ETA before you leave.”

Surprise flashed over the narrow path open between them in the Bond, and then appreciation. He’d expected defensiveness, and it showed him he still had a lot to learn. Not Boba Fett ever expected to _understand_ anything female; it was just slightly rewarding not to have Sha seriously pissed at him before they’d even managed to stay married half a standard year.

 _“K’oyacyi, riduur,”_ Sha replied, slipping into _Mando’a_ even though Fett was only just now picking up more than a few swear words. He knew she’d told him to stay alive, however, and called him her husband and as he took the link to Shysa’s helmet’s communications system and activated it he decided he liked it as farewells went.

 

* * *

 

E’linvhara rubbed the bridge of his nose and up over the portion of his skull where his lekku joined the rest of his head to dispel the slight headache that was trying to set in. It had been years since he’d really tried to do much more with the Force than shield properly. He’d always been sensitive enough to emotions that even with proper shielding he picked up the outside edges of what those around him felt, but now he wished more than ever that he’d just been able to keep his shields up rather than meditating and reach out around him to refresh his memory of how to track someone with the Force.

Tsik Ordo seemed like a solid guy. The Mando’s grief for his brother and sister was like radiation emanating from a dirty bomb site as it was broadcast into the Force around him, punctuated by fury over the grave betrayal of Naysol. Family bonds were at the heart of what it was to _be_ Mandalorian and Naysol’s murder of his daughter’s husband - who he should have considered his _son_ \- and the kidnapping of his grandchildren was horrible. Normally you just didn’t _get_ disputes like this; even if you got divorced, even if you hated each others’ guts, Mando culture held that you kept it together enough to do what was best for the kids.

E’li couldn’t help thinking about Dita at a time like this. He’d never been more grateful that his son had never shown any interest in or asked for any more Force training than it took to remain unnoticed. If not he’d have probably been tapped instead of Kix as the medic for this mission. As it was, Kix’s superior skill and experience had won out over Dita’s youth in Shysa’s eyes, and E’li was left wondering how much longer that would last. He was proud of his son’s medical skill, but even as it clashed with his own Vherik culture’s warrior upbringing and his son’s having embraced his identity as one of the _Mando’ade_ E’li found himself hoping that Dita remained happy on _Slaat’palon_ acting as part of the medical staff there where it was safe.

“You know, under any other circumstances, I’d be enjoying the weather here.” E’li mused to himself as they disembarked from the _Mand’alor’s_ aggressor heavy assault fighter and beside him Faro let out a slightly exaggerated huff of breath at the suggestion from inside his _buy’ce_.

Tatooine’s weather was what it was. To a human, well, let’s say E’li rather imagined that all of his brothers were glad for the environmental controls in their sealed armor. To a Twi’lek, however, the dry, baking heat inside the hangar they were standing in was very pleasant. After years spent on a damp, cold, oceanic planet like _Slaat’palon_ , E’li could imagine this being a vacation spot.

Faro had been standing beside Maze’s lambda, but he’d immediately walked forward to meet up with E’li and Varik when they’d walked off of the fighter. Varik, E’li noted, didn’t laugh. Then again, that fit well with what was going on with his _vod_. Kappa Squad’s sergeant was, thankfully, free of the fear and the constant nervous tension that Vau’s training had left him suffering from during the war. Not being severely emotionally unbalanced was good, but it didn’t mean that E’li wasn’t sad to feel that his brother might have left behind the worst of his problems, but that the hard, angry, ferocity was coming back.

He’d never gone out into the field with the _Mando Cabure_ , which Varik had done during the resistance. As such E’li had held out a hope that Varik had found a better balance in battle, one where he could be more at peace with himself. Instead he realized that Varik had found equilibrium in a seething determination never to fail not because of anger, but because of a myriad of issues too deep to explain without a lot of alcohol and a few days of time to discuss it properly.

 _No wonder he worked so well with Maze,_ E’li thought to himself a little sadly. Maze’s grim perfectionism while on a mission and attention to detail probably fit in very well with Varik’s caustic focus. He knew that Fenn Shysa often either used Maze and Varik to train youngsters who came in or for pinpoint missions by themselves while he preferred to send Graves and Misfit out for maximum damage with Tryss Arpat directing the destruction. Now he really grasped _why_ ; Maze and Varik, in the mood he was in, would be utterly _terrifying_ in the field. If Tryss Arpat and E’li’s Alpha _vode_ were the bright flash of heat and ruination from an explosion, then Varik and Maze were the cold efficiency of a silent massacre in the night.

But this time Shysa had left Varik with E’li in his own craft on the trip to Tatooine. Likely for Varik’s peace-of-mind as E’li knew that he and Faro both were regression to the GAR years where a lifetime’s training said the clones had to be a buffer and protection to the Jedi around them. In retrospect, between the biochip taking over everyone’s brains and how ingrained the trust had become in most places Palpatine couldn’t have picked a better way to wipe out the Jedi Order.

E’li quietly shadowed everyone, joining the group that walked back into Maze’s shuttle. He could sense all around him frightened eyes belonging to a dozen species looking on at the knot of Mandalorians who’d assembled in the hangar at the Mos Eisley spaceport. It was unusual to see ten Mandalorians together in one spot, eleven if you counted him, and E’li didn’t doubt they were.

He preferred a great range of motion than _beskar’gam_ gave someone and, as he still considered himself Vherrik, he felt uncomfortable wearing the armor of another warrior culture. His brothers insisted, however, that he have at least protection around his vital organs. So over the more snugly fitting gray bodysuit he preferred E’linvhara was wearing black torso plates - front and back - that covered his upper body. In deference to his own culture he wore a green breechcloth and bandleer underneath the dull steel colored cloak he threw over it all to keep the dust out. A voluminous green scarf was looped around his shoulders in case he needed to protect his face and lekku against blowing sand.

The green color was a tribute to his wife. It matched Suu’ri’s skintone, and she was the one who’d made him the clothing. She’d also been the one who’d carefully and laboriously embroidered his various feats of strength, merit, and battle in the spidery script of Ryl on the bandoleer as was common amongst the various warrior cultures people.

Adding to the intensity of the meeting was Boba Fett’s arrival. E’li was surprised to note that the man’s presence in the Force was like trying to spot a mirrored cylinder in the jungle or a glass rod in clear water. Almost all of the Fett clones he knew had excellent emotional shielding, especially the Alpha ARCs and RCs, but Fett himself was… something else. His master had been at Galidraan and she’d often complained that there was something _unnatural_ about Jango Fett himself… Then again, E’li reflected with the wry sarcasm age had granted his trauma at the woman’s hands, his master might very well have been the _unnatural_ one there, and just projected it onto the guy fighting for his life.

“I’ve located Tor Naysol.” Fett didn’t belabor the point as he stood beside Sha Wolffe, his _wife_ and E’li was still having trouble thinking of the kids he’d helped raise or seen raised on _Slaat’palon_ as adults even now that Mire had _grandchildren_. “He’s near the border with the southern hemisphere in a bunker he had built around twenty-five years ago when he was still taking active contracts with Jabba’s uncle.”

“Had to buy water when he came in, did he?” Shysa asked, and the famed _beroya_ nodded once and Shysa let out a deep breath. “That’s usually the sticking point for secrecy on this planetary litterbox… I take it, since you directed us to land here, he’s got no contacts in Mos Eisley?”

“He still talks to a junk dealer in Mos Espa, but that’s it, and I’ve taken care of that point of contact.” Fett replied bluntly.

E’li stayed silent even though all of his early training urged him to push Fett to tell them what he meant by “taken care of”. It was either murder, bribery, or severe threats… He reminded himself it wasn’t his business and felt slightly freed as he realized it was true. Being a Jedi, with all of its moral imperatives, had brought him nothing but grief. Being one of _Te Vode_ had brought him a family, a life that was his own, and a sense of belonging he’d always lacked amongst the Jedi. He was here to rescue children, not get involved in what served Tatooine as its standard way of doing business.

“Right.” Shysa rubbed a hand over his face and looked up, turning his attention towards the man standing on the other side of Fett, flanking him as Sha had moved to stand by her husband. “Maze, you’ve got the most experience with Naysol since you knew his _ad_ well. How do we go in?”

“We take my lambda in and land where he can see us.” Maze answered after a moment’s thought. “The man makes _di’kutla_ decisions when he’s cornered. Carid, you think you can talk to your cousin?”

“Tor’ll talk to me, _Mand’alor_ .” Carid maintained, nodding his head and stepping forward. “Whatever happened, if you let me go in first, I know he’ll at least _talk_ first and we can get this straightened out.”

Tsik Ordo made a low, angry noise that came through his _buy’ce_ as an almost mechanical rumble and without thinking E’li reached out a hand and rested it on his shoulder in support. The young man’s grief, anger, and disbelief at Baltan Carid’s continued belief that this was anything but custodial kidnapping and cold blodded murder of _aliit_ had his emotions roiling.

E’li’s brothers were flanking him and both Varik and Faro’s presences in the Force flared with awareness and sharp-edged determination at the touch. Fortunately, it served to do what E’li had hoped it would rather than upset Tsik further. The younger man stood straighter and shrugged, dislodging E’li’s hand but he could feel the hint of gratitude at the move to offer comfort and continued to silently stand near the man mourning his younger _vode_.

“Then this is how we do it.” Shysa decided, then turned to look at where Brude was standing to the side and slightly behind Faro. “Maze, I want you and Carid to appear to be leading the meeting. Sha, be visible with Kix and Brude. Kix can be the obvious medic, Sha, I know you don’t like it but I want you to give me a running account of how things _feel_ in there. I need to know if tensions are about to explode.”

“ _Verd’ika_ ,” The _Mand’alor_ went on, turning to Brude. “You’re taking orders. If it comes down to a fight I want you to concentrate with Maze on getting things settled with Naysol and his _vode_. Sha, Carid, keep the kids safe.”

“E’li take my fighter and land it, quiet like, at a location just outside of visual and sensor range. Tsik, I want you to stay in the cockpit. If they bolt, you’re our backup - _elek,_ Tsik, I know you want to be _right there_ , but our first priority is to get the _ade_ back unharmed. If he sees a member of your _aliit_ he might dig in and it could push things towards violence we don’t want right now..”

Behind the expressionless surface of his _buy’ce_ , Tsik Ordo struggled with that. Eventually he nodded in agreement, however, and Shysa turned E’li.

“I’ll be going in with Carid, as well, I think, but I’ll hang back a wee bit until and unless I’m needed.” Shysa decided. “While we’re handling the front door, E’li, I want you giving me a running tally of anything you can sense. Faro, you’ve got the electronic experience. Find me the back door or doors to the place. If they try and run for it you and Varik are going to stop them. _Gar taylir ade morut’yc_ _[38]_ _.”_

“I’ll be on a high point somewhere with a Verpine, I take it?” Domino rumbled and Shysa agreed, then turned towards the nearly invisible presence in the Force of the Fett in their midst.

“The help’s been greatly appreciated so far, Fett, you coming along for the rest of it?” He asked lightly and E’li was surprised to catch a sudden ripple in the Force, so subtle he could barely feel it and wouldn’t have felt it at all if he hadn’t thrown his shields down and reached out to the Force as hard as he could. A sense of protectiveness and real anger - not at anyone near them but at the _situation_ \- crossed by bond from Fett to his wife.

“Yes.” Fett replied in a one syllable response that said everything that needed to be said.

 

* * *

 

Fett didn’t question his decisions or look into the depths of why he went along. He had no intention of making the same mistakes; he didn’t like that Sha had gone out so soon after they’d gotten married, but he also wasn’t a hypocrite. She’d made it clear she fought when she needed or wanted to fight. He’d made it clear his job wasn’t going to change and neither was he. If she’d accepted him so openly then he’d do the same. Fett did nothing halfway, and part of being a good husband was supporting your spouse. The fact that he could do it for Sha on this occasion in a way that fit his normal skillset was almost a relief.

The fact that it was such a repugnant situation made it an even easier decision. Fett had little sympathy in general. He had no sympathy for murderers and kidnappers.

He both disliked the fact that Shysa had ordered Sha to use her Force Talent the way he had and understood the logic of it. Like an extra sensor package, the things her “talents” could tell her were a valuable edge in battle or a situation like this. Unfortunately it also disturbed Sha to thin her shields and reach out to people, especially strangers, and the more emotionally tense the situation the more it bothered her. The grim way he could feel her brace herself through the thin crack he left open in the Bond between them told him everything he needed to know about his wife’s determination and he respected it even as he disliked Sha’s discomfort over it.

The _Slave I_ was landed outside of sensor range, settled on the sand behind a high, rocky ridge. Sha was standing beside him, a line of crumbled boulders offering cover as they approached Naysol’s bunker. The man hadn’t had the money or the equipment to drill into rock. Instead he’d used a tractor beam to haul up a large amount of sand and set a prefab bunker down into it. After that it was just welding in place a piece of pipe with a ladder inside of it, returning the sand to bury the thing, and then piling some rocks up around the entrance to hide it, mark its location, and keep the sand from subsuming the way in and out of the structure.

“ _Mand’alor_ I found the second egress point.” Faro reported over the well-hidden communications line that they were using. “We’re a quarter klick to your left, behind some dunes. The thing’s buried under twenty feet of sand.”

“He’s likely got a small tractor beam set in reverse to blast a path clear.” Maze grunted. “Can you scan for that?”

“No.” Faro replied bluntly and Varik added his own two cents.

“ _Mand’alor_ , you’ve got a low-powered tractor on your Aggressor. Tsik should be ready to pop up and fly here to clear it for us.” The other clone suggested.

“You heard the sergeant.” Shysa added and Tsik Ordo could be heard priming the engines of the big fighter and Boba sighed and blinked to adjust the volume settings on his _buy’ce_ ; he didn’t often _talk_ during his work and the settings were currently more appropriate to his last conversation with Sha, which had been quiet. “E’li?”

“I can only sense three lives inside the bunker.” The ex-Jedi Twi’lek replied over the comms, and his tone was tense. “They may have stashed the children elsewhere.”

“They’re dead.” Sha’s statement was quiet and grim and totally emotionless.

Fett had no intention of either invading his wife’s privacy and mind by keeping the bond fully open during combat or distracting either of them that way, but he could tell she was deeply unhappy to say it. He also agreed with her assessment. If Tor Naysol was unbalanced enough to murder his son-in-law and Racin Ordo’s younger sister and then steal his grandchildren away then he was unbalanced enough to kill his grandchildren. Likewise, Boba Fett had seen and heard of Naysol’s two brothers and neither had a reputation that would have shied away from murdering children.

“You don’t know that.” The ex-Jedi argued, his tone almost gentle even as it was stubborn. “ _Mand’alor_ , permission to expand my search?”

“You agree none of the three inside are the children?” Shysa asked, his tone cold and professional in a way Fett respected.

“No, they’re adult.” E’li agreed and Sha added, quietly.

“One’s in physical pain and all of them are an emotional wreck.” His wife could be heard swallowing and steadying her breathing through the comms and Fett scowled; Sha didn’t like being exposed to others’ strong emotions. Now she was having to purposefully seek them out and sift through them. “E’li?”

There was a momentary pause, and then the more deeply trained Force Talent responded.

“One of them’s in physical pain and terrified, one’s simply afraid, and one of them’s a basketcase. That may even be what has the other two frightened. I think the latter is Naysol, but I’m not sure. The unhinged presence _feels_ older.”

“Find the _ade_ , E’li.” Shysa ordered tensely. “Carid, open a channel to your cousin and get him talking, I’ll stand up with you and be visible. Everyone else, don’t be seen and begin to approach.”

Seeing no reason to debate sensible orders, other than the fact that Shysa had just chosen to make a target of himself which was none of his business, Fett moved up to cover his wife as she chose her approach in a deep channel between two dunes and moved in.

 

* * *

 

It was a quick but ugly mission, and Domino saw it all from atop the high stone ridge he chose as his vantage point. The butt of the Verpine rifle pressed to his shoulder, and with the sight feeding directly into the optics of his helmet it compensated for the damage he’d taken to his vision in one eye during the war. It also meant he had a prime seat for the whole thing, and it didn’t make a pretty picture.

Carid attempted to reason with his cousin over the comms, who was beside himself. Tor Naysol didn’t bother to deny that he’d taken the children or killed Racin Ordo and his sister. Instead he tried to justify himself and refused to say where the children were, changing the subject with a quick, frantic way of speaking that didn’t bode well for his mental situation or the kids’ safety. Halfway through Carid cracked, the usually jovial young man suddenly demanding that his cousin come back to _Mando’yaim_ and make an accounting before the Old Man who was Tor’s grandfather and the head of Naysol _aliit_.

That, in turn, cracked Naysol. For some reason the grizzled idiot had thought his grandfather wouldn’t find out. How, Domino had no idea, but that set the man off. When that happened there was some kind of struggle inside the bunker. Shysa ordered Tsik Ordo to get into the air and used the Agressor’s tractor to get the sand dune off the back door so they could get in. At the same time, over the comlines Domino could hear one of Naysol’s _vode_ accusing him of going senile and demanding something - it sounded like he wanted to surrender to Shysa - and then Naysol started shouting in what must have been his mother-tongue from before he was adopted into the _Mando’ade_. A moment later it was all over in the ugliest way possible.

“ _Osik!_ _[39]_ _”_

_“Shab!”_

_“Dini’la hutt’uun!”_

The sand danced and people cursed before the dune around the egress tube with the ladder seemed to drain downward and the rocks hiding it tumbled to the side, exposing the thing as the lid blew off of it in a gust of smoke, acrid air even hotter than the atmosphere of Tatooine already was this near the southern hemisphere, and Domino let out a, low, angry breath and made himself unclench his jaw and stop grinding his teeth.

“Alright, the _shabuir_ blew the place.” Fenn Shysa’s voice was all bright steel and rusty, grinding anger as he spoke. “Sha, help E’li look for those kids - I’ll assume Fett’s with you. Tsik, take my fighter up and start running broad sensor scans for lifeforms to see if you can find something they can’t, the _ade’ll_ need family when we get them out of whatever hole Naysol stashed them in. Maze, go get the Lambda and bring it in. Use the larger tractor beam to start unearthing the bunker. Faro, Varik, stay with your _vod_ , everyone else is with me. We may have to take them back in buckets but we’re not going back to _Mando’yaim_ without proof this was settled. Carid... take some time.”

Domino could hear the ragged breathing of the younger man and his heart went out to the poor kid. He’d lost so many _vode_ in the war, and though she’d saved Chance and he had his own family now with Sumiko and their daughters… He hurt for the kid.

“No, they’re _aliit,_ I’m digging too.” Baltan Carid insisted, harshly and Domino came to a decision.

Part of him wanted to help find the two little ones dragged into all this grief, but the larger part of Domino was weighed down with the grief of greater experience. He agreed with Sha that they likely weren’t alive. As much as he hated the idea of leaving the kids, or not finding them, the way that his _vode’s_ bodies had just been left the living always came first. Shouldering his rifle Domino came to the decision that he’d keep an eye on Baltan Carid for the rest of the mission.

 

* * *

 

In the end, Fett found them but E’li and his _vode_ were closest. E’li had strained himself, trying to sense the children as soon as they were in the air and heading towards the bunker’s location, but he’d found nothing. It became obvious why as soon as the bounty hunter got on the communications gear to tell them what he’d found.

E’li knew Sha was doing precisely what he was; searching for a sense of life with a mind behind it, and a child’s fear at having their lives overturned. She might have thought they were dead, but she’d still have looked. He’d just… Sha had so many issues where parents and kidnapping and death was concerned. E’li had hoped what she’d said earlier was rooted in that, not something she’d picked up and he’d missed.

It felt, in a way, like another betrayal. E’li had suffered for his training in the Force. He’d been taken from his birth culture, his entire species, and put into the Temple. The creche had been a pit of despair for him as he was surrounded by a series of competing cliques and fit into none of them. Then, once he’d gotten out of that and into training, his master had been a nightmare and his only solace had been in pursuing any scrap of Vherrik culture he could find even as he was punished for it. After all that pain should he have at least gotten the ability to save _someone_?

Fett had found the children by looking for buried organic matter rather than life signs. On Tatooine nothing was left to waste; if there was buried organic matter then something sentient had made an effort to keep the predators from it and the Tusken Raiders didn’t come this far south.

“They’ve been dead for about three days.” Kix assessed, having scanned the bodies. “Tsik gave me their medical records, and it looks like someone gave them a sedative they’d inherited an allergy to from Racin.”

The children had been buried in their plates, something Mandos never did. Armor was kept, passed down to family to remember those lost by. It spoke of how hectic and unsettled the burial was. In three days under the sand the bodies were already in the early stages of mummification as Tatooine sucked all of the water out of the fluids.

“My cold storage is shot.” Fenn Shysa blew out a breath\\. “Do we need it?”

“The bodies haven’t finished drying out, _Mand’alor.”_ Kix’s tone was exhausted and angry as he spoke; he’d wanted the kids to survive this as much as everyone. “They’ll just decompose faster now that we’ve exposed them to the sun and are moving them.”

“Right.” Shysa swallowed and stepped down into the hole, sliding his arms under the smaller of the two bodies to lift up Racin Ordo’s daughter and pass her to where Tsik Ordo was kneeling by the edge of the open grave. “Maze can you-?”

“I’ll do it.”

E’li was jarred out of his own sense of defeat and recrimination in surprise as he looked at where Fett stood, still at Sha’s back as she stood at the edge of the grave. Distantly E’li noted that she was likely going to have nightmares now. He hoped Fett was capable of comforting her since none of her family was present.

Everyone else seemed as surprised as the Twi’lek warrior felt by the _beroya’s_ offer. Carid’s head came up from where he’d had to pull his _buy’ce_ off to be sick off to the side. Domino had a hand on his shoulder and was standing beside the younger man protectively, though that surprised no-one. Domino’s protective instincts were well-known.

Thinking about it practically, rather than in accordance with Fett’s reputation, it made sense given the man’s profession that he’d have perfectly working means of taking a body somewhere. He knew Shysa had tried hard never to leave a body behind, but he also knew that Shysa had admitted in the past that he broke the conservation equipment in the smuggling compartment he used on his Aggressor to store bodies as often as he fixed it when he worked on it himself. It was no surprise that that was broken.

Maze likely had one working, but it was just as possible he already had a few crates of booze in it for the cantina that would need to be shifted and might possibly be the sort to go bad if unrefrigerated. Not that Maze wouldn’t eat the cost without complaint given the situation, but… E’li realized he was just trying to think of anything except the fact that he and his _vode_ had just moved rocks and about eight square meters worth of sand off of two tiny bodies.

“ _Vor entye.”_ Fenn Shysa said simply and quietly leaned down, picking up one of the bodies while Varik slid down into the hole before E’li could and took the other from Kix.

E’li couldn’t hear the private line Varik had opened with Kix, but it made his heart clench a little. Varik _had_ learned so much and grown so much from the nervous, terrified, bully he’d been when E’li had first gained command of Kappa Squad during the war. It didn’t matter that Varik was the third person to tell Kix to concentrate on Baltan Carid and Tsik Ordo. All that mattered was that Varik had learned to take care of other people and look beyond survival as the only goal in life.

He just wished that today two more beings could have survived. E’li was torn between anger at himself for not having done something that could have saved the children, for having dug up so much of his own painful past in trying to reconnect with skills and training that brought him no joy and having accomplished nothing. The larger part was ashes and dust and sadness because the children had been dead before they’d even arrived.

There was nothing left to do now but go home and try and manage the wreckage

 

* * *

 

Boba Fett had no idea how to comfort anyone, not even himself. He understood, however, precisely what was going on when he was jarred from sleep in a jumbled nightmare painfully familiar and strange at the same time. There had been no fire on Geonosis and at the time he’d had no armor so nothing had been over his face, suffocating him, but for a moment that had been overlaid over the sight of his father’s decapitation and a terrible sense of having everything that mattered in his world - safety, love, stability - torn away from him.

They were on his ship and Sha was twitching against his back in her sleep. He couldn’t shake her awake, but he’d begun to get more comfortable with their Bond. His breathing ragged and adrenaline up from the nightmare he didn’t stop to question what he was doing or think it over as much as he usually would before he tried something new with the Bond. He’d framed his understanding of it so far by thinking of it and picturing it like the HUD inside his helmet. Now, as he opened the Bond wider Fett pictured turning the lights up in the cockpit instead, making them intensely bright.

“Wha-?” Sha jerked awake instantly, sitting up and looking left and right and reaching out automatically towards him.

Fett reached out and got both of her wrists. First, he wanted to keep her from striking him since he had just woken her up out of a nightmare. Secondly… while he still had no idea what to _do_. Physical proximity… might help? He knew that Sha liked to curl against him after sex. She’d been clinging against him in her sleep, he could feel the coating of sweat over his back, making the sleeveless tunic he’d been sleeping in cling to him. It seemed like a logical thing to assume she’d want to be close again now that she was awake.

Apparently it was the right thought. When he hauled her against him Sha wrapped her arms around his neck and tucked her face into his shoulder. It made her horns did into him, but she wasn’t pushing hard enough to gore so he didn’t adjust her. It didn’t hurt enough to matter and as he roughly ran a hand up and down her back as a dim memory of his Dad comforting _him_ after a nightmare crept into the forefront of his mind, his wife relaxed a bit.

“You want anything?” He finally asked, awkwardly, after maybe ten minute of sitting that way; Sha pressed to his chest, curled up halfway in his lap with his legs hanging off of the bed and his feet planted on the decking.

“‘Fresher, water.” Sha croaked and forced herself to her feet.

Boba Fett went and got his wife a glass of water while she went to the refresher. She came out having obviously washed her face and without her emotions roiling. Instead she just felt tired and sad. He sympathized, though he tended to go to anger first after a nightmare, though he rarely had them anymore.

After that Sha put her _beskar’gam_ back on and he did the same. Neither of them were getting back to sleep now and there was no sense dwelling on it. He checked his investments from the downloads he’d taken before they entered hyperspace and Sha took out her toolkit and began taking apart, repairing, and upgrading a concussion rifle he’d taken from a piece of merchandize during his last job. They passed the rest of the trip in silence, but Fett kept their Bond more open than either usually preferred; it worked out well and, though he was still angry and disgusted by the whole situation he found himself looking with respect upon those involved.

He’d been doing his job for a long time. Handling a job where everything went well and all parties walked away happy was easy. Watching Fenn Shysa deal with two grieving clans and what amounted to a couple of _hundred_ of furious, hurt, vengeance-minded Mandalorians without any of them deciding to embark on a bloody rampage against the other by the end of it? That was pretty _fekking_ impressive.

Fett just wished that Shysa had left Boba’s wife out of it, but he was satisfied to watch her walk up the ramp to Maze’s ship for the return trip to Slaat’palon. Since their marriage this was the first clear threat to his wife’s safety and even her happiness that he’d faced. Sha had left without fighting with _him_ over it, she was fine, and he felt he’d done the job right. For Boba Fett that was always first in his list of concerns.

For her part Sha was completely oblivious to her husband’s lack of knowledge where comforting her was concerned. Wolffe as her father had always comforted her by offering her physical proximity and reassurance, if he’d talked to her, well, he hadn’t picked up that the reassurance that had drawn her to him in the first place came from the armored steadiness of his presence in the Force. The very stubbornness that made him _Wolffe_ had made him the most reassuring _buir_ possible for Sha as a fractured little girl, and as a grown woman in a much better place emotionally her husband’s solid presence, cautious use of their Bond, and respect for her own emotional integrity and privacy through it were a great comfort. He’d held her when she was upset and he hadn’t tried to push her or make her do anything against her will; it was exactly what she’d needed.

Life went on in the galaxy. E’linvhara, Varik, Faro, and Brude returned to their family. Maze had dinner with Esme and remained oblivious to her plans to seduce him (at least temporarily). Domino’s daughter was born along with Chance’s and he rejoined his _aliit_ with the relief of a man whose life revolved entirely around those he loved. Kix took a single day off from his work in the infirmary and spent time playing with Torrent _aliit’s_ expanding range of grandchildren.

Fenn Shysa was bogged down for weeks in dealing with the fallout of Tor Naysol’s actions. Everyone had to grieve and that could be a dangerous process when the _Mando’ade_ were involved. As it was, however, they were also practical. Everyone had died, and Clan Naysol was miserable too and had to shame of it all to deal with on top of that. Relations between the _aliite_ would never be good after that, but as it mostly boiled down to them avoiding each other Fenn Shysa could at least content himself with the fact that there was no clan war to weaken his people as they began to get a real foothold on prosperity again.

It was cold comfort, but he’d had years of learning to get by on that, hadn’t he? It wasn’t like being the _Mand’alor_ was a job you took to be _happy_ . Still, Fenn Shysa thought on the fact that Boba Fett had _volunteered_ to help - even if only because Sha was involved - with a tiny spark of hope. He knew one day his luck would run out, and when it did…

**Author's Note:**

> jetii ra dar’jetii val klesir as.[1] - Jedi or Sith they smell alike.  
> Mirshe’aka[2] - Issue (A combination of the word mirshe for brain, using the plural of the word for brain cells, and aka for mission.)  
> Mirshe’aka’e aliit [3] - Family Issues  
> Mando’yaim[4] - Mandalore, the Mandalorian homeworld.  
> Buy’ce[5] - Helmet  
> Kar’yai[6] - Central living area of a traditional Mandalorian home.  
> Haar’chak[7] - Damn it!  
> Slaat’palon[8] - Mud Hole, in this case my fanon planet where many clones defected to and settled within the Mandalore Sector  
> Aruetiise[9] - Foreigners, traitors, outsiders.  
> Ad’ika[10] - little one, son, daughter, of any age - also used informally to adults much like *lads* or *guys*.  
> Gihaal[11] - Fish meal, a big export on Slaat’palon  
> Mand’alor[12] - sole ruler, traditional leader of the Mandalorians  
> Dini’la[13] - crazy  
> Shab[14] - Fuck  
> Kute [15] - underpants  
> Hut’uune[16] - the plural of coward, the worst insult possible  
> Kyr’tsad[17] - Death Watch  
> Ori’copaad[18] - obsessed  
> Chakaar[19] - corpse robber, thief, petty criminal - general term of abuse  
> Buir[20] - father or mother  
> Tayli'bac[21] - Got it, okay, understood? (often very aggressive)  
> Te Vode[22] - The Brothers, used here as a cultural title for all of the GAR clones.  
> Mystic Mob [23] - In the Republic Commando Novel, Triple Zero, Kal Skirata gives grudging praise to Bardan Skirata and Etain Tur-Mukan for the good work the two Jedi did. He uses the fond term of abuse ‘mystic mob’ to describe the Jedi and in my head Bardan picked it up and sort of passed it onto Fenn Shysa who kept using it to describe the Force Sensitive Mandalorians and allies who helped him during his years leading the Resistance against the Imperials. In my AU here they’re kind of like a very informal militia that Shysa can call on if he’s got to deal with something involving the Force and threatening the Mandalorian people.  
> Verd’goten[24] - Coming of Age, usually the first time a Mandalorian formally goes into battle.  
> Haran[25] - Hell, cosmic annihilation  
> Skraan[26] - food, eats  
> Vor’e[27] - thanks  
> Cyar’vod[28] - sweet-brother a specific GAR term of affection (a term derived from cyare, beloved, and vod, brother. Used to denote a fellow clone in a relationship)  
> Ori’ramikad[29] - super-commando  
> Alor’ad Mesh’la[30] - Captain Beautiful, Tryss Arpat’s nickname as he’s a very attractive Hapan Male. He’s also Varik of Kappa Squad’s husband.  
> Riduur[31] - spouse (does not denote gender, can be used for husband or wife)  
> Bu’ade[32] - grandchildren  
> Ba’vodu[33] - Uncle or Aunt  
> Dar’manda[34] - a state of not being Mandalorian - not an outsider, but one who has lost his heritage, and so his identity and his soul - regarded with absolute dread by most traditionall-minded Mando'ade  
> Cuyir shev’la[35] - Be silent  
> Jetii’kade[36] - Lightsabers  
> Aliik[37] - clan symbol  
> Gar taylir ade morut’yc[38].” - You keep the children safe.  
> Osik[39] - Shit


End file.
